


Miracles of Modern Engineering

by thesecretsix



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Humor, Nuts and Dolts - Freeform, POV Second Person, Romance, just an idea, now with plot!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6535210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretsix/pseuds/thesecretsix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Most girls are born, but I was made." "I'm so glad! I thought I was the only one!" </p><p>In which Ruby Rose is a clone of Summer Rose and the world doesn't yet realize just how fucking saved it's going to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I was browsing /r/RWBY and someone had posted a comic involving Summer. “Wow,” I said to myself, “She’s basically just a clone of Ruby.” And then I thought long and hard for a quick and easy second and realized exactly how stupid that thought was. Even the simplest chronological argument necessitates that Ruby be the clone of Summer.
> 
> And that’s the story of how this happened.

** I. Penny, A Minor Hiccup/Painting the Town **

 

You see Ruby Rose in the intersection and you see the truck coming her way. You take in the panicked expression on the driver’s face, he knows he can’t stop the vehicle in time. Your positronic brain makes a calculation in mere nanoseconds; there’s nothing your friend can do to escape her fate. But there  _ is _ something you can do. 

 

You leap into the street and, bracing yourself to take the sudden impact, catch the delivery truck with your bare hands. The asphalt, unable to withstand the forces, cracks beneath you. There’s the high-pitched squeal of metal bending as the hood crumples and the horrified shrieks of the bystanders, but you tune all of that out. The only sound you care about is the gasp of the girl sprawled on the street behind you: “Penny..?” You can hear it in her voice, she’s terrified, confused, uncertain. 

 

You don’t turn to face her. 

 

To the driver of the truck, you ask “Are you okay?” As he stammers out some sort of affirmative reply you realize that the cause of all this, your Atlesian Army minders chasing you, is still a pressing problem. 

 

With the immediate danger over, you rapidly return to the flight mode of your fight-or-flight impulses. Your father always says that it’s better to avoid confrontation when possible. You retreat to an adjacent alleyway where you won’t be spotted out as easily. 

 

“Penny!” shouts your friend, “Come back!” She follows you, having the gift of speed and none of the burden of your metal frame. 

 

“Penny! Please! What is going on?” begs Ruby, “How did you do that?!”

 

You can’t explain, you’re simply not allowed to. You need to get out of here, but Ruby’s got you trapped. Besides, you don’t want to just run away-- you like your friend. You like having a friend. It’s great and new and different! 

 

“I-I can’t!” You try to explain how you can’t explain. “Everything’s fine.” The hiccups your father’s programmed into you start up. Luckily, you don’t think Ruby knows what they mean. “I-I don’t want to talk about it.”

A gamut of expressions run across Ruby’s face. You’re able to interpret their net effect as corresponding to about eighty percent concern, fifteen percent confusion, and five percent interest. That’s an odd reading, you realize. You don’t know that you understand that one. 

 

You make a note to follow up on it with your father or the general when you see them later. It wouldn’t do to decrease your combat efficiency because you failed to understand something...  although really, this knowledge should have been made accessible to you from the start, Regardless, this sort of blatant oversight needs correcting. 

 

Consistent with your estimation of her emotional state, Ruby continues to ask you questions about the status of your being. “Penny, if you can just tell me what’s wrong, I can help you!” 

 

The genuine desire for you to be okay is almost too much for your emotional circuits to handle right now. “No,” you reply, “No, no, no! You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“Let me try!” comes her swift rebuttal, “You can trust me.” 

 

You think you really can trust her. That’s what friends do for each other, right? You meet her eyes, asking the critical question. “You’re my friend, right? You promise you’re my friend?” 

 

Ruby looks you straight in the eyes and softly says, “I promise.” 

 

That’ll have to be enough. “Ruby,” you confess, “I’m not a real girl.” 

 

You hold up your hands, revealing the damage they took when you stopped the truck. The skin on your palm’s been ripped away, revealing your dull metal chassis. 

 

“Oh,” says Ruby. She looks like she wants to say more, but you keep talking. It’s best to get this all out now, before the general’s men come for you. 

 

“Most girls are born, but I was made. I’m the world's first synthet-” 

 

Ruby cuts you off. “I’m so glad!” She beams at you. “I thought I was the only one!” 

 

Now it’s your turn to be confused. The doubt you have in her statement is significant enough to trigger a lie detection subroutine, which reviews and analysis the last few seconds of footage. Her pupils are wide, her hands are still, her breathing has steadied out; the involuntary contraction of the muscles near the corners of her eyes reveal that her smile is genuine; a rough estimate of her heartbeat, factoring in her recent physical exertion, has actually dropped from “agitated” to more normal ranges. Conclusion: Ruby Rose is telling what she believes to be the truth. 

 

But that doesn’t compute at all. 

 

All physical cues point in favor of your friend being between eighty-three and one hundred percent human, You can refine that number by acquiring additional data, so you take the only sensible option before you. Stepping forward, you press the tip of your index finger onto the girl’s forehead. Cross-referencing the readings against your sensory input databases, you determine that Ruby’s forehead falls completely within typical human parameters. “Hmmm,” you say out loud as you sample her jaw in a similar manner, then her chest. She blushes, further supporting your hypothesis that she is in fact human-- only the Atlesian laboratories that produced you should have access to  _ that _ kind of technology. “Are you certain, Ruby? My most recent estimates place you at ninety-six percent human, with a statistical uncertainty of four percent.” 

 

“Well,” starts Ruby. In a total reversal of roles, she’s the nervous one now. “It’s possible to be completely human and still have been… made.”

 

You’re not sure you follow. When you express this, your friend attempts to clarify. “I don’t know why I’m telling you or really how to tell you, I’ve never came out to anyone, but I guess maybe you’re the only person that might really understand but now I’m rambling and oh my god okay, I’ll just say it.” 

 

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and confesses. “Penny, I’m a clone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got one more scene of this in me for sure where Ruby and Penny talk about why they were created, who knows what’ll happen after that.


	2. Chapter 2

**II. Ruby, Beacon Dance**

 

From your vantage point beside the punch bowl, you survey the fruits of your labor. The re-purposed auditorium has been elevated to something approaching a ballroom through the strategic use of balloons, doilies, and lighting. Couples dance happily to the upbeat tunes, while groups of friends stand at the edges of the floor laughing merrily amongst themselves.

 

You’re fine with the first-- it doesn’t bother you at all to watch Nora and Ren (but mostly Nora) cut their way across the dance floor, swaying to their own illogical beat. No, it’s that second category that bothers you: the glimpses you catch of Blake and Neptune giggling at some joke Sun made or Emerald and Mercury gossiping with Weiss and Yang in the corner tug at your heartstrings.

 

You wish you could be part of something like that.

 

As you reflect on what you’re missing out on, Yang catches you glancing her way. She throws you a quick smile, as if trying to reassure you of something. Of what, you have no idea. She does that sometimes; every so often, she’ll put in a little extra effort and try to make you feel welcome. You have a hard time reconciling that Yang with the sister you’re more familiar with, brash and hot-tempered.You have a hard time reconciling her with the sister that took years to accept you were part of her family now.

 

You sigh and sip at your punch.

 

“I see you’re hiding at the punch bowl too,” says Jaune, startling you out of your musings. “Why aren’t you with your team?”

 

You shrug. “They’re all having more fun like this. You know how it is, they don’t have time to drag awkward little Ruby around with them.” You notice Jaune’s chewing on something crunchy as he listens to you. “Are those pretzels?”

 

He returns some fusion of a nod and a head shake, then around a mouthful of the relevant substance mumbles out, “Pretzel cookies.”

 

“Gimme!”

 

“Geez, you should know about the snacks and stuff... Didn’t you guys set this whole thing up?” He doesn’t protest significantly as he passes you a cookie.

 

“I mean, that was pretty much all Weiss,” you explain. “She’s the only one who knows about this kind of stuff.”

 

At the mention of your partner’s name, Jaune looks a bit downcast.

 

“Hey, sorry.” You didn’t mean to upset him. Oh dust, what are you supposed to say now? “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you and Weiss.”

 

He tries to play it off like he doesn’t care. “Nah, I get it. How am I supposed to compete against Neptune? The guy’s so cool he can actually pull off blue hair.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“You think I could pull off blue hair? I guess it’s worth a sho-”

 

“No,” you interject. “Weiss is just over there with Yang. Neither of them came with dates.”

 

“Huh.” A look of confusion flashes over his face, followed by understanding and annoyance, and finally settling on determination. “Hold my drink.”

 

He storms off, parting the crowd with nary a thought. Through the gaps in his wake, you catch a glimpse of a familiar face.

 

Penny waves excitedly at you across the room.

 

...

 

In the end, there was just too much party for you. After Jaune led his team in a spectacular dance number, the dance really kicked into high gear. You’d thought the music was loud before, that there couldn’t possibly be _more_. You were wrong.

 

Even up on this balcony, perched on the handrail, dangling your legs off the edge, you can feel the vibrations caused by the thumping bass. Still, it’s quiet enough up here. You can hear yourself think again.

 

Maybe that’s not the greatest thing, though, because it gives you room to feel jealous for what Jaune and team JNPR have. If only your team was so cohesive, if only they did things together-- no, that’s not accurate. Weiss, Blake, and Yang get along just fine. It’s just you who’s the problem.

 

By and large, they respect you as their leader. Unfortunately, that’s as deep as your relationship with the rest of team RWBY goes.

 

Growing up with Uncle Qrow didn’t really prepare you for this. He never told you about people or friendship. He taught you how to use a scythe, not how to be a girl. He taught you how to put a bullet through an enemy’s eye from a kilometer away; he never taught you how to dance with cute boys.

 

Heck, you’re not even sure what qualifies a boy as ‘cute.’

 

Not to say you haven’t tried to be friendly. Because you have, really. It’s just hard and people don’t really make any sense. Like, Jaune’s your friend now. Or something..? He keeps coming to you for advice on things, which is weird. You’d understand if it was combat advice, but he asks you about social things sometimes even though he’s already so much more competent at that stuff than you.

 

His partner Pyrrha weirds you out too sometimes. You sort of humiliated her in the first week of school, soundly trouncing her in Goodwitch’s combat class before her peers. She sought you out that evening and as you braced yourself for some sort of revenge, she thanked you profusely.

 

Is it so much to ask that people behave logically?

 

Your sharp ears become aware of the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, prompting you to spin around just an instant before the familiar bob of curly orange hair rises into view.

 

“Salutations, Ruby Rose!”  Penny appears genuinely thrilled to be talking to you. “I noticed that you had vacated the ballroom and predicted (successfully!) that I would find you on this balcony.”

 

“How do you do, Penny?”

 

“Sens-a-tional!” She draws the word out, pronouncing each syllable individually. “This has been an evening of many firsts for me. I’ve learned so much!”

 

It’s not too surprising-- if anything, Penny seems to be even more sheltered than you are. At least Uncle Qrow took you travelling to all the major cities and across the vast wilderness of the Grimmlands. You get the feeling Penny hasn’t seen anything other than her father’s robotics laboratory.

 

You suppress a shudder. If it’s anything like Ozpin’s cloning lab… Well, you understand why Penny enjoys _everything_ so much.

 

She stands there anticipating something, and it takes you another few seconds to realize she wants you to ask her about what she’s learned. “So this was your first dance?”

 

“Ab-so-lutely!” She does that thing again with the syllables. “I researched many forms of modern and classical dance in preparation for this event. Furthermore, I have discovered why humans enjoy music so much-- it is quite spectacular. Finally, I learned about clothing and purchased my own dress suitable for dancing!”

 

With a smile, she twirls delicately in place. The action causes her dress to flutter and rise a bit, exposing even more of her porcelain legs. That’s right, she usually wears thigh-highs and a long-sleeved blouse. You realize you’re staring and tear your eyes away, back towards her face (taking a brief detour by way of her exposed collarbone).

 

“It looks great,” you manage only after gathering yourself appropriately. Huh… What was that about? You spin in place one-eighty degrees, pivoting so that your legs dangle off the side of the building once more. “Come sit with me!”

 

With a grin, Penny leaps a meter and a half in the air from her stationary position on the ground up to the the rail you’re seated on. It trembles a little from the not insignificant impact. Carefully, as so not to fall, she lowers herself into a sitting position. “Wow,” you say. “I just… climbed.”

 

The two of you gaze out over Beacon for a bit, taking in the strange juxtaposition of the still night over Beacon’s campus, the city of Vale’s distant lights, and the rhythmic thumping of the bass reverberating through the building’s bones. A thought strikes you, a question you’d meant to ask some time before.

 

“So,” you begin, “the guards that were chasing you earlier… was everything okay?”

 

Penny giggles. “They’re good people. They just like to protect me.”

 

The memory of this girl singlehandedly pulling a bullhead from the sky plays a dissonant note against her statement. You recall that Penny has access to some of the most absurdly powerful weapons technology you’ve ever heard of-- and some of it that you haven’t heard of, if you’re honest. “What, they don’t think you can protect yourself?”

 

“I’m not ready yet. I’m combat ready, yes, but there’s a lot more to the world than that. And as much as I like learning things, there are just so many things I don’t know yet. My father is okay with me going out and learning them-- he says it’s very important that I do-- but it’s not always safe for… someone like me.”

 

That makes a lot of sense. She was really broken up telling you that she was an android, and you were already friends with her when that happened. You can’t even imagine how bad it could be if she was exposed in front of strangers.

 

You’re lucky, you don’t have that problem.

 

Penny goes on. “Right now, I need them to protect me. But one day, it’ll be my job to protect the world.”

 

You give her a quick hug. “I’m glad. That you have people watching out for you, I mean.” Something else pops into your head. “They were here tonight, right? The soldiers? I thought I saw them.”

 

“Yep!” responds Penny, popping the P in imitation of you (it’s funny; that’s a habit you stole from Yang, who Qrow says picked it up from Summer Rose). “I let them stay at the dance when I decided to search for you.”

 

“Um, won’t they come looking for you?”

 

“Nope.” She sits there pleased as punch, before expounding. “I told them I was having…” Here, Penny leans in to whisper into your ear, even though you’re the only people on this particular balcony. “ _Feminine issues.”_

 

Uhh, what.

 

“But Penny,” It just doesn’t make any sense, you need to know. “Aren’t you a… _beep boop.”_ You flail your arms robotically to underscore your meaning.

 

“Of course,” she explains. “But my father built me with the hardware to emulate a number of biological functions.”

 

...okay. You try not to give that one any further thought.

 

Her statement sort of hangs in the air for a while since you have no idea how to respond to it. Penny seems content to just sit with you, looking over Beacon and Vale. She shifts a little, every so often, causing her shoulder to brush lightly against yours.

 

It’s funny how warm she is, considering that Penny’s all gears and wires and steel. You noticed that before, when you hugged her, but somehow it’s more evident in these little touches. What’s the point, you wonder, of making a combat android that’s excellent at hugging. Your cheeks redden as your mind begins to go down that path that you’d decided not to pursue.

 

After a few minutes of this torture, Penny abruptly breaks the silence. “Ruby, if I may ask…”

 

You nod. “Sure, what’s up?”

 

Still, she hesitates. “It’s a little personal. I don’t know if it’s okay for me to ask.”

 

“We’re friends, I won’t be upset. What’s up?”

 

“Do you know why you were made?” She wasn’t kidding, that got personal quickly.

 

“A little bit,” you respond. “They made me to save the world too-- that’s something we have in common. But they probably made me to save it from something different. I dunno.”

 

“But they didn’t make me for me, if that makes any sense? My mother, Summer Rose, she was one of the best huntresses to ever come out of beacon. She was supposed to have been on a whole other level from everyone else. My uncle told me that she could do things that nobody else could; that the Grimm fled before her silver eyes.

 

“So when Summer died saving the world, everyone got worried that it wouldn’t be safe anymore. And then they made me, to fill the gap.”

 

You harshly squeeze at the rail you’re seated on. “But I can’t do all the stuff Summer could. Not yet.”

 

Penny heads off your angst, placing her hand over yours. It’s soothing, as are her words. “One day, Ruby, maybe we can save the world together.” You take in her face-- her eyes so full of honesty, her earnest smile-- and realize you can’t say no.

 

“I’d like that,” you say instead, relaxing your grip on the rail. As you do so, she tugs ever so gently at your arm and intertwines your newly freed fingers with your own. Your balance disrupted, you find yourself in the not undesirable position of having your cheek pressed against Penny’s bare shoulder.

 

Neither of you says a word about this new situation.

 

…

 

The two of you, artificial soldiers for mankind both, stare out into the night. Well, Penny stares. You’re a little preoccupied with your thoughts. You’ve got a lot of those right now, a lot of feelings that you’re not all too familiar with.

 

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a flicker of motion across the school’s rooftops. You jerk to alertness, trying to resolve the fast-moving object against the night. “Did you see that?!”

 

“Yes,” replies Penny. “There appears to be a woman attempting to break into Beacon tower. Perhaps we should prevent her from doing so?”

 

“Together?” you ask with a smile.

 

“Together.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As typical, notes as long as the chapter.
> 
> Okay, so for consistency Ruby must have actually only been cloned after Summer’s death, ten years ago. For her to be around fifteen now, her growth was accelerated significantly at some point. I guess this means that she probably spent most of her early childhood in a lab/test tube, and so didn’t grow up with Yang and Tai on Patch.
> 
>  
> 
> And because it seems stupid to deliberately create a weapon like clone!Ruby and not train it to fight at complete peak of its potential, Ruby was taught to fight by the various members of the Ozluminati rather than attending a typical combat school. Obviously, Qrow taught her how to use a scythe and guided her through making Crescent Rose, just as in canon. Maybe Oz taught her how to use her silver eye powers, whatever they really are. Logically, clone!Ruby must overpowered as hell because anything else is amazingly wasteful.
> 
>  
> 
> That said, Pyrrha probably didn’t go all out in Goodwitch’s class. But of course, it’s hardly like Ruby would use her something something silver eyes powers either, so… eh?
> 
>  
> 
> So, Ruby’s personality and inner voice-- I tried to go for something that captured the same mannerisms and fundamental personality but was consistent with her new circumstances. Since she grew up without significant interactions with her age group, I yanked her “social skills” lever down from awkward and somewhat geeky to basically zero but she tries to be nice . She’s jealous of all the normal people doing normal things around her. She’s has no idea how family works or why Yang smiles at her. She’s still pretty innocent in some ways, but generally she’s a little more mature. Growing up with the weight of the world on your shoulders doesn’t leave much time for naivety and impulsiveness.  She’s got almost none of the usual “little sister” aspects to her personality, but she still loves cookies (that’s in the DNA, I guess?).
> 
>  
> 
> I have the inklings of a next chapter, in which Yang explains to [maybe Blake or Weiss? Or both?] why things are so weird between her and Ruby. I’m also thinking about one where Qrow brings clone!Ruby home to Taiyang’s place for the first time, set sometime in the past, and Tai decides to adopt her as his own daughter.
> 
>  
> 
> Drop me a review and let me know if there are any particular moments you’re interested in. I’m not interested in writing fight scenes here, but if a few people want a particular thing I might be willing to give it a shot. I'm also up for some smaller little drabble-y moments.  
> 
> I’m really trying to make this not angsty and/or existentially heavy, which limits some of my natural options moving forward. Y'all know me, I have to struggle to keep things light.


	3. Chapter 3

**III. Taiyang, Long Ago (Before we met)**

 

It’s just after midnight-- you’re about to retire for the night-- when you hear a soft knocking at your front door. 

 

Who on earth could be visiting at this awful hour, you wonder, as you make your way over. Peering through the peephole, you resolve a familiar form; it’s your brother-in-law and teammate. How unexpected, what could possibly have brought him here? Still, he’s always welcome at your house even if you haven’t heard from him in over a year. You swing the door open. 

 

“Qrow!” you exclaim. “I haven’t seen you in, I don’t know, a year or two?” You take the opportunity to give him a critical look, evaluating his health and general state of being with a glance. He looks haggard, exhausted, and unsure of himself. 

 

“Tai,” he starts, “I know I have no right to ask this of you, but…” He trails off, implicitly asking for permission. 

 

“What is it?” 

 

“I need your help. I don’t know who else to go to with this.” He’s almost pleading, it’s like some small pride restrains him from doing so explicitly. You’re almost offended that he thinks you’d ever say no. 

 

For the first time, you realize the two of you aren’t alone at your doorstep. A quiet scuffling behind Qrow alerts you to the small child hiding behind his legs. She’s tiny, barely coming up past waist level. You’d bound her age at about four, but maybe that’s pushing it. The girl notices your attention, hiding her face in Qrow’s cape as if it’ll protect her from your inquiring gaze. 

 

“You had a kid?” How irresponsible can the guy get? His lifestyle has never been a stable one, rife with dangerous missions and mired in his personal issues. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, you’re the last person to make that sort of judgement. There’s just no way he can support a child, no way he can give her the attention she deserves. But he really should have thought about that before-

 

“No.” Gently, he puts his hand on the girl’s shoulder and pulls her out from behind him. You put the pieces together as soon as you see her round face, her black and red hair, her shimmering silver eyes. 

 

Holy shit, it’s a miniature Summer. But there’s no way that makes any sense, this child couldn’t possibly be any child of Summer Rose. As you realized earlier, she’s far too young have been born before you lost Summer. There’s no way the girl’s six years old, there’s simply not. And besides, you’d seen your wife alive and definitely not pregnant only days before her passing-- it’s impossible for Summer to have had a child in secret. But all the same, the kid can’t be anything else. 

 

“What the hel- heck” you gasp out, automatically censoring yourself at the last moment (a reflex you’ve developed in your ten years of fatherhood).

 

Qrow touches a finger to his lips. “We can’t talk about it here,” he says in a low voice. “Inside.” You don’t argue; you need whatever explanation he’s about to provide. And there’d better be a hell of a good explanation and it better not start with “Well, Summer and I had a bit of a thing, you know?” You’re liable to punch your brother-in-law if that’s the case. 

 

You wouldn’t put it past him, though. He’s always had a propensity for womanizing, the unreliable son-of-a-Branwen.

 

As you fume internally, Qrow scans the room with his scroll. He stops when he reaches Summer’s sniper rifle, mounted in its place of honor above the mantlepiece. He examines it critically before extracting some small electronic device from inside the barrel. “One down,” he whispers, crushing the delicate machine under his heel. He continues with his procedure, finding another such device tucked under the lip of the windowsill and yet another in a flowerpot. Finally, he straightens up and proclaims the room clean. 

 

“What’s going on here?” You don’t waste another moment fooling around, you’re owed an explanation and by dust you’re going to get it.

 

He ignores you, though, instead guiding the mysterious girl to your couch. “Hey,” he tells her in a kind voice. “Make yourself comfortable. If you’re tired, you can take a nap.” She doesn’t respond verbally, but complies nonetheless. Within seconds, she’s closed her eyes and drifted off. Finally, Qrow turns to address you. “There are some things you need to know,” he begins. 

 

“There’s a war coming, Tai.” Qrow intones the words solemnly, aware of the bombshell he’s dropping. “We’ve known it was coming for years, we’ve been doing what we could to delay it, to maximize our chances of survival. I fight for us. Summer fought for us. Even you fight for us, in a roundabout sort of way.”

 

“Us?”

 

“Humanity. Faunuskind. Civilization as we know it. This is a war for our very existence, Taiyang.” Qrow draws his stainless steel flask from his hip pocket. Unscrewing it with a smooth and practiced motion, he takes a long draught. “It’s brutal, Tai. And things are only getting worse. It’s growing, consuming everything.”

 

“Who are we fighting, then?”

 

“I don’t know. Well, that’s not completely true-- we fight the the Grimm, the organized criminals, the fascist regimes, the terrorists, the shadows themselves. They’re all facets of this evil. But there’s something or someone behind them all, pulling the strings, coordinating them. And what or whoever it is, it hates us just for living.”

 

Qrow pauses and inhales deeply, as if steeling himself to deliver the next revelation. He lets the breath out with a hiss, then continues. “And Summer was the greatest weapon we ever had. When we lost her… well, many on our side believed the cause was doomed-”

 

“Hold on a second,” you interject, “Summer was always the greatest huntress of our generation, sure, but she wasn’t some sort of... unattainable goddess of hunting. You and I know that better than anybody. But I don’t understand how she is-- was-- the light’s only hope. It just makes no sense.” 

 

“Evil cannot bare the gaze of the silver-eyed warrior,” recites Qrow in rebuttal, as if the line from the almost forgotten nursery rhyme explains everything. 

 

“That’s just a story, a fairytale for the kids.” Not even a common one at that, if you recall correctly. You’d never heard of it until Raven recited it to your daughter one sleepless night, when the Beowolves’ howling kept her awake. You thought she’d made it up on the spot, drawing on toddler Yang’s passing familiarity with her at-the-time auntie Summer. You didn’t learn otherwise until much later.

 

“As Ozpin loves to say, every fairytale has a basis in reality.” 

 

“Let’s say I buy that,” you acquiesce. “How did it work, then? Did the eyes grant her some sort of power? Was it more of a ‘blessed-by-fate’ sort of deal?” You’re suspicious about all of this. If Summer had been as spectacular as these claims make her out to be, well, how was she ever defeated? 

 

Qrow shrugs. “All I know is that Summer could do fantastical things. She could turn the tide of impossible battles, go toe-to-toe with foes beyond the rest of our abilities. I don’t think even she understood it very well… but the fact remains, she was the lynchpin of the light, our shining beacon. And when she passed, Ozpin thought that all was lost. He began to look for alternatives; he found none.”

 

Your brother-in-law takes a seat beside the girl slumbering on your couch and gently ruffles her hair.  With a sigh, he continues the tale. “So he returned to his existing solution, the one thing he thought could give civilization a chance to continue, and he looked to bring it back. In his desperation, he began to think the unthinkable; he crossed every line. His problem was a lack of Summer Rose; the obvious solution-”

 

You put it together in an instant. “No!” you gasp, “He- he- that’s impossible!” There’s no way Qrow’s saying what you think he’s saying, there simply can’t be. 

 

He only nods, though. “Grow another,” he concludes. “Grow another Summer Rose. I was aghast when I found out, just so goddamned angry.” He sits up straight and looks you dead in the eye. “I couldn’t let them do this, Tai, I couldn’t.” 

 

His flat tone sends a shiver down your spine. There’s not much you can say, you’re just as horrified as Qrow. “Y-yeah,” you eventually choke out. 

 

“I cooperated for almost two years after that, learned everything I could. Project Silver, they called her, the so-called ‘candidate three.’ I don’t know what happened to the other two. I don’t really want to know.” He shudders. “He sped up her growth, you know, with pills and machines. I watched her go from infant to toddler, from toddler to girl. He had me begin to teach her. Weapons, you know, how to fight. She’s goddamned smart, picks everything up just like that. Combat… Hunting… Tai, it’s in her blood. She really can save us all.”

 

“But in the end, I couldn’t let them do this. Greater good be damned, Taiyang, she’s just a little girl. She deserves better than a test tube, than Ozpin’s sterile fucking laboratories. Better than the battlefields we’ve thrown her on, better than the mountain of dead Grimm at her feet. Goddamn it Tai, Summer deserves a life.”

 

A tear breaks free from the inner corner of his eye, followed rapidly by another. Qrow doesn’t seem to have noticed that he’s misspoken, that he’s used your dead wife’s name to refer to the girl, her clone. You wonder if she’s got to the name after all, if sharing her blood-- sharing her DNA-- is enough.

 

But you’re getting ahead of yourself here; there’s a crucial detail Qrow’s glossing over. “Battlefields?” you hiss, careful not to raise your voice in anger. “She’s a child! She’s what, four years old?” It’s a simple fact not negated by her supposed status as some sort of war goddess messiah. “What is wrong with-” 

 

“I know, Tai, I know! So I stole her away. I’ve fucking doomed us all but at least I can live with myself. At least I didn’t stand by and watch...” He trails off, sobbing openly. “But I didn’t know what to do after that. I’m sorry, brother, I didn’t didn’t know where else to go.”

 

“You did the right thing.” It’s funny how strong your voice sounds, how confident you can make yourself seem. Of course, you have no idea what the right answer was. You don’t know a thing about this secret war, about clones and laboratories, about the apocalypse Qrow thinks is coming. You don’t need to, though. 

 

You know what you believe in. You know what it’s like to be a father, and to make decisions based on the hope that your daughter will prosper. You know what it’s like to care about someone even as you watch them destroy themselves, and you promised you wouldn’t let that happen to anyone else you loved. And you know what you think is right; more importantly, you know what you think is wrong. 

 

That’ll have to do, at least for now. 

 

“I want to say I’d have done the same, Qrow. I want to say I’d be as strong as you,” you try to explain. “What I’m saying, I guess, is that you have nothing to apologize for. You saw something you believed to be wrong and you tried to fix it.”

 

Some of the stress leaves his shoulders at your words. The two of you begin to relax into a comfortable silence, opening yourselves to the weariness associated with the late hour. 

 

It’s really not so bad, you reflect, and there’s no reason you can’t deal with the fallout of Qrow’s decision in the morning. He can crash in the guest room, get his strength back, and tomorrow you’ll cook up a big brunch: pancakes, sausage, that packet of Vacuan bacon you picked up on your latest mission, maybe some omelettes. It’ll be fantastic, Yang’ll be so excited. And hopefully she gets along with the girl-

 

This is actually a problem. You can’t keep calling the girl “the girl.” And you’re certainly not going to call her by the dehumanizing “Project Silver” title, nor are you going to call her by Summer’s name as Qrow keeps doing. 

 

“Does she have a name?” 

 

“Not qui-” Qrow beings to answer, but cuts himself off. Paling rapidly, he leaps to his feet. “They’ve followed me. Tai, they’re here.” He reaches for his weapon, reassuring himself that he’s combat ready. 

 

“Who?” Your eyes have just been opened to a whole new world of enemies; you have no way of figuring out which ones to expect at this particular minute. You crack your knuckles, awakening the fire that lies dormant in your veins. Terrorists, creatures of Grimm, eldritch horrors, living shadows; you’re ready for it all. You’ve punched them all before, you’ll do it again.

 

Qrow’s response, though, takes you by surprise. You weren’t ready for everything, it turns out _. _

 

“Glynda Goodwitch and James Ironwood.”

 

Friends, hunters, colleagues… Good people. Heroes, even. 

 

Qrow goes on. “Not who I thought Ozpin would send, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

 

“And if they take the girl?” You know the answer but you ask anyways. 

 

“They’ll take her back to Ozpin, and he’ll continue keep putting her through this bullshit he calls training.”

 

“Goddamn it.” You don’t bother censoring yourself this time. Your hair begins to spark and crackle, belying your tone of absolute calm. “Let’s go out and meet them, then.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 1 of 2 of Long Ago.
> 
>  
> 
> I completely meant to write 1) a conversation between Ruby and Qrow set during V3 or 2) Weiss and Blake asking Yang what’s up with her and Ruby sometime in V1 but they turned out to be way too full of exposition. And then Long Ago popped into my head, giving me some of that exposition a little more naturally.
> 
>  
> 
> I originally wanted to write this from Qrow’s perspective, but I sort of got enough of that pretty recently with If you never say the words. Tai’s also a bit different from the kind of character I usually write, so I thought it’d be fun. We don’t know too much about him, but I see him as someone who’s pretty sure of themselves and what they believe as well as being very emotionally driven. Here, I tried to let his emotional journey drive the story.
> 
>  
> 
> Lets not worry about chronological order, eh?
> 
>  
> 
> Oh no I was supposed to study for finals and instead I wrote fanfiction.


	4. Bonus Round 1

**Bonus Round (Omake) I. Ruby, Immediately after The Badge and The Burden**

 

“Hey, uh, Weiss. Hey.” You’re a little nervous as you approach your new partner in the cafeteria. 

 

The last few days have really been a bit of a rollercoaster ride on that front. She started off super antagonistic when you ran into her in the forest, but lightened up pretty quickly once you had a chance to show off your moves. Then she got really mad again when Ozpin declared you leader (and even named the team after you), told you off during classes (it’s not your fault you’re bored, you learned this stuff when you were basically a baby), and complained about your diet (you’re a  _ very _ rapidly growing girl!). 

 

And then somehow you finished out the day on a high note… at least if you’re not misinterpreting Weiss’s “midnight coffee as a peace offering” strategy. Maybe that’s actually her nefarious plan to sabotage your sleep schedule? 

 

But based on the not-a-glare she responds to your greeting with, it’s probably the former. “Ruby,” she returns pleasantly, “How do you do?” 

 

“I just, uh, wanted to make sure we’re alright.” You catch yourself poking your fingers together and stuff your hands into your pockets; your uncle Qrow always says never to let a nervous tic betray you to your enemies. “You know, after yesterday and stuff?” 

 

Weiss smiles. Or maybe it’s more of a not-frown? “Of course we’re alright,” she huffs. “I got you coffee and everything. I’m going to be the best partner you ever had.”

 

“Oh, cool.” You stand there for a long moment, shifting your weight from one leg to the other as you watch Weiss daintily cut her Atlesean toast. She eats it in a strange, methodical manner adding no syrup or powdered sugar or even honey, and blows delicately on each dry and sugarless piece before delivering it to her mouth. You’ve seen someone eat Atlesean toast in this specific way before, but you can’t for the life of you remember who. Maybe it was that woman from the army that was following your uncle around a few years back? Whatever, it’s probably not important. 

 

Weiss realizes you’re still there. “You look like you’ve got something more to say.”

 

“Uh, yeah.” You look around the mostly empty cafeteria. “But maybe this isn’t the right place for it? I was just thinking, well, now that we’re partners and all… there’s some stuff you should know. About me, I mean.” 

 

“Right!” Weiss nods, “That makes a lot of sense, and there’s definitely something I should tell you before we go any further. Just give me-- ” she glances at her watch “-- five more minutes to finish breakfast, then meet me back at the room. We should still be able to make it to class on time.” 

 

…

 

You adjourn to the team RWBY dorm room and seat yourselves on the spectacular feats of engineering that are your bunk beds. With Blake and Yang in the cafeteria squabbling over omelettes and egg whites, you’ve got the room to yourselves. 

 

“So, uh, I really should tell you-” you begin, but Weiss cuts you off.

 

“I have something incredibly important to say, and well, I think I should go first.” 

 

“I think you should decide if you’re going to tell me, umm, after I tell you my thing.” 

 

“Oh dust, are you in love with me? This happens everywhere I go.” Weiss sighs dramatically, “Ah, the curse of being young, rich, and beautiful.” 

 

You stutter, flustered. “W-what? No, no, that’s not what I’m trying to tell you.” 

 

“Good,” replies Weiss. “It’s all for the best. Besides, you wouldn’t love me anymore after I told you the truth about me.”

 

What a strange game of oneupmanship this is. “Well, it’s even better because you wouldn’t want me to love you after you learned the truth about me!”

 

“Who’s to say I would ever want you to love me?” she rebuts.

 

“Uh, not me, because why would I ever… hold on, this is stupid.” You realize this whole conversation is a huge waste of time and precious brain cells. “And we’re going to be late for Oobleck’s class if we keep doing this.” 

 

“You’re right, Ruby. How about this: we both say our things at the same time.”

 

It’s a fair enough proposal that appropriately satisfies both of your needs for melodrama while remaining practical. Besides, you really don’t want to have to sprint to class for the second time in a row so you may as well be efficient. 

 

“Alright, we’ll count down together.” “Sure!” 

 

“Three!” 

 

“Two!” 

 

“One!” 

 

“I’m a clone!” 

 

Wait, did she not say her bit? And since when did this room gain an echo? Then suddenly, it hits you: you both made the claim that you were clones. Across the room, Weiss comes to the same conclusion.

 

“Wait, what?!” you both exclaim simultaneously. “Hey! Stop that!” “Stop mocking me!” “Seriously, stop.” 

 

…

 

“So, you’re a clone too?” Weiss asks cautiously.”I don’t think I’ve ever met any outside of my family.” 

 

“Yep!” You draw out the single syllable and pop the final consonant. “I’m a clone of my mother.” 

 

Weiss looks at you suspiciously. “Huh.” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 

“Me too.” 

 

“No way you’re a clone of my mother! You look nothing like her!” 

 

“I’m a clone of  _ my _ mother, you dolt!” 

 

“Huh.” 

 

“Precisely.”

 

You wonder if she’s supposed to save the world too. Of course, it’s hardly polite to ask her something like “Why do you exist?” so you’re not terribly sure of how to extract that information from her. It is, after all, the classic question. Philosophers spend lifetimes debating it, middle-aged men (and slightly older sisters) buy brightly colored motorbikes in order to put off thinking about it, science and religion were created in part to answer this impossible question. 

 

“No, I don’t mind at all,” responds Weiss. It’s only after you’ve reflected on how not to pose the question that you realize you’ve been thinking aloud this whole time. “It’s a nice enough story, maybe even a little romantic. It’s basically a fairy tale, if I do say so myself.” 

 

And in a completely unsurprising turn of events, she does say so herself. 

 

“Once upon a time, there was a brilliant businessman who ran the second largest dust mining operation on Remnant. He fell in love with the daughter of Remnant’s largest dust manufacturing company’s CEO when he met her at one of the most exclusive Atlesean ski resorts during a retreat for the who’s who of the dust industry.

 

“So basically, they met by pure coincidence. How romantic!” 

 

You don’t bother contradicting her proclamation. You’ve known this girl for all of two days, but all evidence points to that being a spectacularly bad idea. Besides, as uncle Qrow always says: “Never piss off rich girls with white hair who sleep in the same room as you because they’ll definitely cut you in your sleep.” That’s one of his words of wisdom that you took particularly seriously as he seemed to actually be bleeding at the time he delivered it (most likely at the hands of a rich girl with white hair?). In general, that seems to be a decent criteria to separate his more useful advice from the chaff of his tipsy ramblings. 

 

You tune back into your partner’s story as it begins to get more serious. Thankfully, you’ve spaced out through most of the so-called romance. “So as she lays on the ballroom floor in a rapidly growing puddle of her blood, she makes him promise. ‘Shnee,’ she said, ‘This won’t be the last you see of me. Swear to me, Schnee, this isn’t the end.’ And my father, being a hopeless romantic, naively said something like, ‘Of course, my love, I swear it.’ That’s how this all began. ‘So mote it be,’ she whispered, shutting her eyes for the last time.

 

“It was only a month later that the lawyers showed up and explained that he’d committed to trying his best, up to some reasonable technological effort, to bring my mother back to life. It turned out that the best at the time was cloning, but we didn’t have artificial age acceleration back then, so my father ended up with a clone of his wife that was twenty four years younger than him.

 

“And that’s the story of how my sister Winter came into being.” 

 

“Well,” you hear yourself say as if from a distance. “That was… a story.” Then your brain catches up. “Your sister?” you ask. “What about you?” 

 

“Oh, that’s a simpler story. A few years ago, Winter decided to join the army and declare some measure of independence from father. He still wanted an heiress, though, so he made another one: me!” 

 

Uhh, what? Wow, that’s fantastically petty. 

 

You stand up, make eye contact with Weiss, and put one hand on either of her shoulders. “Weiss, I’m sorry. That really sucks.” You express your deep sympathies, then offer your aid as a friend. “If there’s anything I can ever do to help you, one clone to another, let me know.” 

 

“You’re overreacting a bit?” she asks, hesitatingly. “Why, I mean, why were  _ you _ made?” 

 

How can you answer this question without saying something horrifically self-aggrandizing like: “I was built to save the world from a primordial evil and trained from birth so that I’d have the power and skill to do so” and making Weiss feel useless and insignificant. 

 

“Huh,” says Weiss and you realize you’ve done the thing where you’ve said exactly what you were trying to avoid saying.

 

“Sooo, that.” You reiterate your statement, in case she’s missed it. 

 

“Huh,” says Weiss once more. You wonder if you’ve broken her, and pat yourself on the back in congratulation for realizing that you weren’t supposed to say that thing… that you said… maybe this is less of an accomplishment than you’d like. 

 

You put one of the pats back, but keep the rest for yourself. Later, you’ll convert them into cookies nicked from the school’s pantry. Ah, the sacrifices you make. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what happened here. This is NOT part of the actual story. I’ve labelled it as an omake up front, so yeah. Don’t take this seriously. It was going to be tacked on to Long Ago I, but it somehow ended up comparable in length. 
> 
> Somehow Weiss went from mildly posh (scene 1) to absurdly unreasonable (scenes 2 and 3) within minutes of me deciding I’d write something where she was a clone of Winter. Maybe I’m sorry, it’s hard to tell.
> 
> And of course, I have the same number of finals remaining as I did yesterday. How much more have I studied? I put the exam time on my calendar, does that count? What am I doing… 
> 
> “Huh.”


	5. Chapter 4

**IV. James Ironwood, Long Ago (Part 2 of 2)**

 

The trail doesn’t lead to Signal, as you’d suspected it would. It doesn’t even take you to the fortress-come-town that surrounds the academy, where many students and teachers (including your quarry) live. Instead, you find yourself traversing the emptier side of Patch island, running across strawberry fields and cutting through dense woods.

 

“Shit!”

 

You turn to look at your partner for this excursion, Glynda Goodwitch. You don’t think you’ve ever heard her curse before, she’s usually so proper about everything. The simple curse-- a four-letter-word you might even say every day-- sounds disgusting, particularly profane, as it passes her lips. “Of course this is where he’d run.”

 

“What is this place?” you ask. “I didn’t think many people lived on this side of the island.”

 

With a violent pulse of telekinesis, Glynda clears a path through a thick copse. The uprooted trees crash loudly a few meters to either side. “And weren’t we trying to be quiet about this?”

 

“Don’t delude yourself, James, they know we’re here. Or did you forget about Qrow’s way with the birds?”

 

“They? And where is _here_ anyways.” You quickly grow tired of her evasive answers. The pronoun game has no place during serious military actions. Basic communication 101 should be mandatory for all hunters, with particular emphasis on how to communicate information quickly and concisely in and near combat situations.

 

In lieu of a response, Glynda blasts her way through another thicket and you emerge into a large, picturesque clearing. In the light of the shattered moon, your eyes trace the neat cobblestone pathway up past a white picket fence all the way to a fairly nice house. Before you can take in any more details on the house, though, your attention snaps back to the figure standing defiantly before it.

 

The man you’re chasing.

 

His tattered cape, the faded red color barely distinguishable in the moon’s gentle glow, flutters proudly in the breeze. His weapon, fully extended in it’s scythe form, looms menacingly. He must have stashed the girl somewhere, presumably in the safe-house behind him.

 

He looks the pair of you over, but doesn’t say a word.

 

Qrow Branwen is a dangerous man, but with his scythe he’s very solidly a mid-range fighter. With your cybernetic enhancements you’ve got him beat in the close range, and Glynda’s support gives you the advantage at this distance. That’s not even mentioning the cannon you call a handgun, which outclasses Qrow’s rifle add-on.

 

So really, you’ve got two quite decent strategies available to you. You could keep him at arm’s length, kiting him until his aura is depleted. Or you could close in quick and smash the self-righteous smirk right off his face. You could even do both.

 

As you skid to a dead stop about fifteen meters from him, Glynda finally finds it in her to explain. “James, he may have back up,” She hurriedly whispers, “This is Xiao-Long’s house.”

 

Ah, Taiyang Xaio-Long. A legendary battering ram of a man. Heart, soul, and muscle of the most successful huntsman team in recent history, the near mythical team STRQ.

 

It all clicks into place. You understand why Qrow’s come running to this innocent-seeming house instead of well-defended Signal. After all, who better to shelter an illicit clone of Summer Rose than the husband of the original.

 

“Only if Qrow can convince him,” you argue. From what you know of Xaio-Long-- albeit mostly through Qrow’s drunken ramblings--  he and Qrow had a major falling out nearly a decade previously. “Or if he’s even had time to, with us so close on his tail. I doubt he’s done more than stash the girl.”

 

“Just don’t do anything hasty.”

 

Heeding Glynda’s words, you cease the movement of your hand towards your holster. It wouldn’t do to start a fight you might not win. Besides, you’re all on the same team really. Best to lead with that.

 

“Qrow,” you reach out diplomatically. “We don’t need to fight.”

 

He shifts his grip on the scythe, but doesn’t speak. Nor does he make eye contact.

 

Glynda gives it a shot. “Qrow, I know that you’re upset about the girl. We all are. I am.” She’s always been better at this whole communication thing than you.  “But... you understand why we need her.”

 

He finally opens his mouth. “That doesn’t excuse anything.”

 

“Qro-” you begin, but he cuts you off. “You were right about one thing, Jimmy. We _don’t_ have to fight. Just walk away.”

 

“You know I can’t do that.”

 

“How many years have I known you, James? Ten? Twelve? Whatever. I always thought you were a good man. A reasonable man. Someone who does what’s right.”

 

He pauses for a long moment, and you wonder if he’s about to attack. But then he just says, “Keep doing that… Go home.”

 

You know you don’t have the moral high ground here, but you have a responsibility to Ozpin. A responsibility to humanity. To every living creature on Remnant with a goddamned soul. “And consign us all to oblivion, Qrow?” The rebuttal comes easily. “I _am_ doing what’s right. I’m not here tonight because it makes me happy, chasing you halfway across the world to steal back a toddler. I’m here because if I’m not, we all die. It’s all over, Qrow. It’s all goddamned over.”

 

You’re startled to realize that you’re shouting now. Keep it together, Ironwood. You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone, you’re not the one who’s opening the door to all manner of Grimm by neglecting the huntsman’s creed. You’re doing your job.

 

“You need her back to kill the monsters for you.” Qrow’s voice is flat, a dead giveaway that he’s done with this conversation. “And you’re willing to become a monster for that.”

 

Behind you, Glynda shifts her weight. She’ll start off with a raw telekinetic wave to create some space, which you’ll follow by laying down suppressing fire as she prepares a one-way barrier. After that, Qrow’ll be a sitting duck, to be picked off at your leisu-

 

A light flickers into life on the porch of the picturesque cottage behind Qrow. You hear footsteps, and then the door cracks open. “Whoops,” says a low voice, followed by the rattle of a chain and the door opening in its entirety.

 

“James,” begins Taiyang Xaio-Long jovially as he steps out onto the porch. “Do try to keep it down. My daughter’s sleeping.” Then with a frown, he goes on. “As is your prospective savior/science project.”

 

It takes seventeen seconds from the instant he goes to shut the door.

 

One for you to draw your handgun as the door clicks shut. Taiyang begins to turn around.

 

One for you to click the safety off and get a bead on the man’s center of mass. Glynda begins her telekinetic wave, and your target’s knees bend.

 

One for Taiyang to leap forward, punching directly through the incident blast of energy. You track his movement and squeeze off your first shot, which dings off his aura. Qrow disappears from your peripheral vision as he begins to duck and weave. You’ll leave him to Glynda for now.

 

Ten more seconds for you to empty your clip into the blond battering ram’s chest as he surges towards you, staggering back slightly each time you connect. You’ve made a sizable dent in his aura by the time he’s near; he must be down to forty percent or so.  Off to the side, you hear the sharp report of Qrow’s rifle. The smell of ozone fills your nostrils as Glynda calls lightning in response.

 

One second as you holster your weapon. Taiyang extends his arm to strike you. You react instantaneously, moving to duck under and levy a low kick at his shins. He leverages his momentum well, sidestepping your attack neatly.

 

And then the melee begins in earnest. Xaio-Long’s footwork is on point, as he makes to circle around but instead lunges forward. A vicious grin lights up his face. He’s telegraphing a strike with his left arm, but you’re ready for the feint. You lead with your right, stepping into the lighter of his blows expecting to retaliate. It doesn’t go well; the glancing blow to your reinforced steel arm knocks you off balance. The follow-up to the gut is severe as Taiyang gives you the old one-two.

 

You double over as the wind is knocked out of your chest, but your steel frame keeps you on your feet. Spotting what looks like an opening, you launch a wicked jab.

 

With 20 kiloNewtons of mechanical force, this punch would pierce an Ursa Major’s armored face and come out from the other side. Honestly, it’s overkill against any human opponent-- against any other opponent you’d worry about killing them outright, but Taiyang _did_ just eat a full clip from your revolver and come out on the other side smiling. With this, well, you’ve got the fight in the bag.

 

He catches the blow open-handed on the seventeenth tick of your internal clock.

 

The ground cracks beneath your feet under the pressure of the deflected impact.

 

Gasping for breath, you try to negotiate. “W-w-w-wha-” You’re not sure if the words are directed at your opponent or at the universe itself-- maybe it’s shock; you just need to know what just happened-- but there isn’t enough air in your lungs to force the words out. Ignoring you, slowly, deliberately, Xaio-Long tightens his grip. Your servos whine in protest as they struggle ineffectually to extract your hand from his closing fist. In this matchup of flesh against steel, somehow… steel finds itself lacking.

 

There’s an instant of intense pain as your circuits transmit the sensation of rending metal, warping under heat and pressure, and then just nothing; your system disables misfiring hardware to prevent permanent neural damage. Your prosthetic arm hangs slack, suspended only by its connection to your shoulder on one end and by the molten mass in Xaio-Long’s grasp on the other. As he lets go, it swings lamely.

 

As the two of you stand in silence in front of the Xaio-Long house in the middle of the night, panting heavily, your focus gradually widens. You begin to hear the gunshots-- Qrow’s rifle-- and feel the earth shake as Glynda pulverizes the otherwise beautiful countryside using uprooted trees as makeshift missiles.

 

Even without looking, you know that they’re evenly matched. Neither party can bring the fight to an end; Glynda can’t corner Qrow, but he can’t close in to engage her with his scythe. But it’s only a matter of time before Glynda runs out of stamina, if she continues expending energy at the rate that she’s been this last minute. Meanwhile, all Qrow has to do is not get hit.

 

“It’s over.” You can see the surprise on Taiyang’s face as you make this declaration. Somehow, even with a full third of your body useless, he expects you to struggle on. “Glynda, Qrow, it’s over.”

 

She’ll stand down on your instruction. Qrow will follow, you’re sure of it. He’s not here to attack, he’s here to defend.

 

Slowly, as to not spook your immediate adversary, you slide your left arm into your right pants pocket. “Just my scroll,” you explain. “I’m done, Xaio-Long. You got me. And in another minute, the two of you would have Glynda. I’m all out of ideas; I can’t convince you, I can’t beat you. I’m all out of ideas.”

 

You dial the number from memory, then punch in the six digit verification code to confirm your identity on the secured line. “But I know who might have a few.” Finally, you raise the scroll so that its front-facing camera might survey the battlefield.

 

“You’ve really made a mess of it, haven’t you.” The familiar voice comes out a little tinny over the small speakers on the device. The face onscreen is briefly obscured by the bottom of a white coffee mug. “All of you, I really expected better.”

 

“Ozp-”

 

“Give me a minute, James.” You stand down, leaving plenty of room for Ozpin to work this out. The white-haired man continues. “Well, Taiyang, I wish we were speaking under… better circumstances.”

 

“I’m beginning to remember exactly why it was that we stopped speaking, Ozpin.”

Your blond adversary takes the scroll from your hand, disables the speaker mode, and puts the little machine up to his ear. After listening for a moment, he responds in a soft, calm tone that betrays none of his visible anger. “Right, well, I don’t care if it really is the apocalypse. I’ve had enough of you putting my family right in the line of fire.“

 

Another second and then he explodes: “Of course she’s my goddamned family. You’re going to clone my wife and you think that wouldn’t make her my daughter?” And then he’s calm again. “No, you listen. This isn’t a negotiation. This is me telling you what’s going to happen.”

 

You marvel at Xaio-Long’s resolution; you certainly wouldn’t speak to someone like the headmaster in that way. Your balls might be stainless steel, but this man’s got brass.

 

“It’s very simple, Ozpin. Yang’s going to have another sister. If either of them want to become huntresses, either Qrow or myself will train them. If the girl wants to save the world, she can make that choice of her own free will, with all the facts we can get her to inform her decision. You know, when she’s old enough to decide something like that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing Jimmy’s perspective. Character notes for James Ironwood: Focused, Single-minded, Dutiful, Ready, Calculating, Self-assured, Aggressively rational. He doesn’t let his emotional decisions get in the way of what he thinks is the correct thing to do. He won’t even let the right thing to do get in the way of the correct thing. He’s maybe a little in love with Glynda, but that’s not going to interfere with the mission-- he’s not even going to turn his head to check on her while he focuses on his fight with Tai. (To be fair, he knows that Qrow wouldn’t kill her. For most, that wouldn’t be enough. James is sure when he’s sure, though.) He cares, he really does, but when he’s on the job he won’t let that get in the way. He’d rather be a good man than a good soldier.
> 
> 1\. Based on the one scene where he kills an Alpha Beowolf, I’ve decided that James is mostly a close-combat fighter who takes advantage of the fact that half of him is durable and ludicrously strong. He supplements this with his massive revolver.  
> 2\. 20 kiloNewtons is about 5000 ft-lbs. That’s a stupidly high amount of force on that punch. A typical real-world bullet hits with about 3 kN. Jimbo’s full-power ironpunch hits almost 7 times as hard. This isn’t too ludicrous in context, since Grimm can shrug off some amount of dust-powered weaponry and the ironpunch is supposed to be an all-in one-hit kill.  
> 3\. Jimmy doesn’t know Tai’s semblance, which is-- as typical in my fics-- basically Yang’s semblance. As in Stark White, Taiyang fights in an incredibly reckless manner getting super-charged then hitting like a truck. Here, he tanks Glynda’s TK wave and eats a full clip of Jimmy’s revolver (putting him in the red) before getting into hand-to-hand range. That’s more than enough for him to be completely hulked out and trash James.  
> Glynda has no experience with military-style work at this point in the timeline. James is probably not a general yet, but he is a career soldier. He’s not yet confident and experienced enough to disagree with Ozpin as he does in Volume 2.  
> 4\. Qrow and Glynda are reasonably matched, just as Qrow and James might be (It’s hard to tell how much of that is Jimmy’s bravado, though). Even with James out of the picture, Glynda’s attempting to kite Qrow. However, without additional pressure from a second source, Qrow’s able to evade most of her attacks. Meanwhile, Glynda can’t divert her attention to Tai because she’ll lose Qrow for sure.  
> 5\. We really agonized over the line about Taiyang’s brass balls. I just want you to know that. I don’t know how it got written in the first place, but my beta told me I was keeping it.


End file.
